Southern Statue
by xXJustLeSha96Xx
Summary: There is a part of America you don't know about. A part not mentioned. A part not characterized. A part that you could know more about. And though you may be thinking of our beloved Alfred, you're strongly mistakened hun!
1. Chapter 1: Weaknesses and Russians

A/N: Remember, I'm a **DISCLAIMER!** I do NOT own Hetalia Axis Powers or Hetalia World Series, and I'm just an obsessive fangirl writing a fanfic.

None if this is historically based (hell, I don't even like American history-and guess what I am), so don't point out inaccuracy, cause there is none!

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><p>Two figures are standing in the midsts of a wonderland of snow. The winds are howling, and their scarves and overcoats are flapping like tattered flags. The one taller than the other pushes his beige hair out of his face, while the other, mysterious being, holds itself to refrain from shivering violently.<p>

"So what do you say Russia, want to make amends and be friends with us?" the cloaked silhouette spoke as the wind whipped at them harder.

"Who did you say you represented again?" Ivan asked the figure as he squinted his violet eyes. He was trying to make out the outlines of the face that was hidden 'neath the layers of cloth.

"I came on behalf of America," the figure saluted courteously.

"Why would Alfred send YOU? You don't sound intimidating at all. You sound like...like... a _devushka_!"

"I sound like a girl?"

"_Da_!"

"Oh..." the figure said as it gave a sudden shiver.

_If there's anything you should know now, it's this; never show weakness in the midst of a Russian._

Ivan gave the silhouette a wicked, childish grin, and spoke to it condensendingly, "You also behave like one too. Kolkolkolkol." Then he pushed the silhouette into the snow that was enveloping their knees. It merely squirmed and tried to use its arms to push itself out of the thick, hard snow. This attempt failed as the poor silhouette merely pushed itself deeper into the depths of the white abyss. Ivan merely cackled harder, said his departing words of, "Just like a weak _Amerikanskaya_," and whipped his scarf back from his face. Then he merely strutted off into the mists of the snow.

The figure squirmed a bit more until it realized that it's efforts were useless. Then it turned upon it's side, and curled into the fetal position. It was then that it decided that it should do one thing, and one thing only, die in a warm coccoon of self-pity.

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><p>Feliks assured himself that his trip was well worth it. "Dude, Ivan TOTALLY went too far! Beating Toris! MY TORIS! Well you know what Ivan? I'm so-TOTALLY-gonna kick your vodka a-" Feliks stopped talking because he could swear-SWEAR!-he just saw something move in the snow. He squinted his eyes a bit more, and shielded them from the snow as he scanned the perimenter for whatever the hell was moving, then he saw it again. It was a black flag, cape, or bag that was flapping in the wind.<p>

"Holy shit," he said as he held his gun and inched forward to whatever it was. Once Feliks was right in front of the black-thingy?-, he shifted his gun barrel about until he could find where it came from. He then began to poke about in the snow until he poked something hard, and our beloved silhouette shot up. Both instinctively screamed, and Feliks pulled the trigger. Fortunately enough, he was shooting blanks.

The silhouette was breathing frantically until it gave a deep moan and collapsed back into the snow. "Dude, dude," Feliks said as he poked at the still-being. "Did you just die on me?"

The wind whistled a bit more, and Feliks rolled his eyes. "Okay, fine then, I guess I'll take you home anyways..."

He picked up the baggy silhouette, and noticed it's dark arms. "Awesome!" Feliks yelled at the-possibly-dead being. "This is like my first time-ever!-meeting somebody from like, Africa!" he said as he pulled it closer to him and began his long trip back to his home...

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><p>AN: Hope you liked it in all it's shortness! I'll possibly write more tomorrow, cause I need to deal with my awful hair now.


	2. Chapter 2: Shocking Shower Scenes

A/N: Remember, I'm a **DISCLAIMER!** I do NOT own Hetalia Axis Powers or Hetalia World Series, and I'm just an obsessive fangirl writing a fanfic.

None if this is historically based (well...not in this chapter at least *weak smile*), so don't point out inaccuracy, cause there is none!

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><p>The heavy figure was still hung across Feliks's shoulder like a thick bag of laundry. Due to the bagginess of it's clothes, and it's fluffiness-as Feliks figured it must be-it practically WAS laundry. Once he finally reached his destination (Belarus, to be specific), he gently placed the heavy person into the passenger seat. He hadn't much studied them, but he realized that he knew nothing of them, and wanted to move away their protective mask that cloaked their entire face. The only problem that Feliks had was that his conscience was deciding to finally rear its ugly head, and so he instead pushed back his blond hair and blew a deep breath so as to release his urge of curiousity.<p>

He looked around for "the psychotic blonde-bitch", but figured that, "She's totally creeping out Russia now, so, like, why would she be here?" and so, he climbed into his car and made his way northwest to Lithuania.

The Polish country was happy to find that it was it's maximum temperature in Lithuania for August. It was a warm, sunny, 72 degrees (Fahrenheit), and he completely forgot about the bitter cold of Russia. "Maybe," he said to himself as he began to pull up into Toris's driveway, "maybe, Russia's all cold-like, because, Ivan's the heartless Russian bitch he is..." Then he looked to the figure that was beginning to stir in the passenger seat. "Maybe..." he said once more.

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><p>Next Feliks grabbed the other person and strode up to Toris's front door where he was about to knock...that is, until Toris opened it immediantly.<p>

"Liet! Hey~!" Feliks exclaimed while shifting his weight.

"Whose that?" Toris said in a concerned manner. He wiped his hands on the small apron that matched the green of his eyes, and awaited Feliks's mindless soliloquy.

"Dude, that's just what I was wondering!" Feliks said excitedly.

"So you're just bringing random guys to my doorstep?" Toris said while attempting to refrain from sarcasm.

"You bring psychotic blondes to mine."

"And what does that have to do with this?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing."

"Feliks..."

"Look Toris, I really don't wanna get in an argument now, so could we like, not worry about unimportant things?"

"Fine," Toris sighed, and smoothed his brown hair back. "But I was just a little worried, I didn't know where you went after last night."

"Oh, I just went to Russia."

"Russia?" Toris said as he shifted his gaze up to Feliks who was avoiding his gaze.

"Yeah, nothing big, really. I was gonna kick Ivan's drunk ass, but then I ran into this guy," Feliks replied as he pointed to the baggy person.

"Oh...oh! What are you going to do about them?"

"Give them to you to deal with," Feliks said as he dropped the person into Toris's arms.

"But Feliks!"

"Don't just stand in the doorway," Feliks said as he walked into Toris's entryway, "you'll let in bugs," he finished with a wink.

Toris sighed, and shifted the person's weight so as to close the door. Once he was out of the entranceway, and into the space between the open kitchen and the living room, he dropped the person onto the couch and went back into the kitchen to continue his food preparations.

"Liet~, what are you doing~?" Feliks whined.

"I'm making your favorite, _pierogi_," Toris replied while washing his hands. When he didn't hear Feliks utter a thank-you, he turned off the faucet, and looked up to see him with his mouth wide open, and his eyes twinkling like a kid's. "Um, you're welcome?" Toris asked unsurely.

"Oh my god Liet! You're like, the best!" he said as he crossed the space from the living room to the kitchen in a second. Then he pulled the Lithuanian close to him and swished side to side with him in his arms.

Toris simply blushed, and whispered softly, "I think you should stop before something starts..."

"Why?" Feliks asked a bit louder than necessary.

"Because," Toris said, "the guy might be a homophobe, and I would hate for him to stir in the middle of the living room of two gay strangers who just so happen to be doing something awkward."

"Oh, right," Feliks said as he released Toris, and took a step sideways.

Then, right on cue, the stranger's head-or where the head should be-shot up, and their baggy head-region searched the living room walls.

"In here!" Feliks called to the person on the couch.

They immediantly looked to him, and started to make their way from the living room to the opposite side of the island-or opposite according to Feliks's position.

"Are you okay?" Toris called across his shoulder, to the strange being.

"Yes, thanks fer askin'," they responded, and then cleared their throat.

"Wow! You can actually talk! Dude, I thought you were like an alien for a second there," Feliks said ecstatically.

The baggy person giggled a bit feminely, and responded with, "Oh no, far from it, I'm afraid!"

"Oh, that's very nice to hear," Toris said loud enough for the person to hear. He was surprised that the odd person wasn't making Feliks incredibly awkward.

"I thank you kindly," they said sweetly.

"So, um, you like, speak English pretty good," Feliks said while rubbing his neck.

Toris spoke too soon.

"It's what we speak back home."

"Back home? Dude, I don't think I've ever hear anyone talk like you."

"Oh really now?"

"Yah, but, um, where'd you say you were from?"

"I didn't," they replied chiefly.

"O-kay~," Feliks said awkwardly.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but where did my friend here, find you?" Toris said while waving to Feliks.

Feliks looked back to him, and mouthed a sweet "thank you". Toris simply nodded his head, and awaited the person's response.

"I think in the snow...I can't remember what happened after I fell."

"Fell? Where did you fall?" Toris asked concernedly.

"In Russia..."

"Why were you in Russia?"

"Secret diplomatic reasons."

"Oh...but, you probably want a change of clothes, and a bath...don't you?"

"Ah yes, I've been dying for a good scrubbin'," the figure said with a happier-sounding tone.

Feliks attempted to stifle a laugh, and thus he placed his face in his hands.

"Oh, that-sounds pleasant, I think Feliks might find you a decent change of clothes," Toris said as he glanced at Feliks who was staring back at him with a goofy smile. "Right Feliks?"

"Dude, since when did you start wearing the pants?" Feliks asked playfully.

"Since this is your guest," Toris said flatly as he continued rolling up the dumplings.

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><p>After Feliks showed the mysterious person to the bathroom, and gave them a towel and a change of attire, he made his way back to the kitchen where Toris had begun boiling the <em>pierogi dumplings<em>.

Feliks snuck up behind him, and gave him a quick squeeze which enticed a scream from Toris. Toris swatted at Feliks while Feliks just laughed at the scowl still embedded in his skin.

"God Toris, you should have seen the look on your face, it was totally priceless!"

"I thought you were still tending to the guest," Toris said with a skeptical look on his face.

"I'm done with that! Sides, he wouldn't even let me see him without his weird clothes on! I think he's from one of those African countries where they bring people back from the dead!" Feliks said excitedly.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Toris asked softly.

"Oh, well I got a glance at his arm, where like, his wrist is, and he's brown, so I figured he was from Africa. And if he's afraid of people seeing his regular skin, he must be all zombified."

"They don't only have brown people in Africa."

"Oh yeah, that's right! They're also brown people in America and South America."

"And other European countries too."

"Not too many around here are there?"

"Yeah, I guess not."

"Kinda creepy huh?"

"I think you're the only creepy thing around here, not brown people."

"I never said brown people were creepy, I just said, you know, that them not being around this part of Europe is totally strange."

"Oh, I mistook you. Sorry Feliks," Toris said as he glanced back over his shoulder.

"S'Okay, Liet!"

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><p>Once Toris had stood over the stove for a while, and fished the dumplings out so that they could drain, he looked back to Feliks who was deep into another soliloquy.<p>

"And so that's why you nev-"

"Feliks," Toris interrupted.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Hasn't that guy been in the bathroom quite some time?"

"Oh shit, I completely forgot about him!" Feliks laughed.

"Please go check on him Feliks, he could be hurt!"

"Anything for you Liet," Feliks said with a wink.

Toris stifled a blush and looked back to the food while Feliks laughed and went to check on the guy.

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><p>Feliks pushed away his laugh, but retained his smile. He gently turned the knob to the bathroom, and pushed open the door. He started to say, "Hey, are you alright?", but he stopped before he got to you due to the fact that the guy was naked. And even worse... he wasn't a guy...<p>

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><p>AN: Sorry if you haven't exactly enjoyed my story thus far. (Or if it's incessant grammatical errors) Hopefully you find this chapter endearing, because I plan on making it longer, and this one truly is a stab in the dark.

It's getting good eh? *wink*


	3. Chapter 3: He's Totally Girly

A/N: Remember, I'm a **DISCLAIMER!** I do NOT own Hetalia Axis Powers or Hetalia World Series, and I'm just an obsessive fangirl writing a fanfic.

None of this is historically based (insert irrelevant sentence here), so don't point out inaccuracy, cause there is none!

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><p>Feliks pushed away his laugh, but retained his smile. He gently turned the knob to the bathroom, and pushed open the door. He started to say, "Hey, are you alright?", but he stopped before he got to "you" due to the fact that the guy was naked. And even worse... he wasn't a guy...<p>

He-She-It!-was naked, but luckily had a towel covering their front half. They had snapped their head to Feliks's voice, and though he couldn't see their face (which was completely enveloped by their long, curly bang), he knew that they were dissatisfied with this scenario due to the frown gently placed on their lips. Feliks immediantly jerked his head down to the floor, and attempted to push away the blush developing on his cheeks.

"O-kay~" he mindlessly hummed.

"Did you say somethin'?" the person asked.

"Yeah, um, you okay?" Feliks asked again.

"I'm fine, thank you," they replied.

It was here that he noticed that their voice WAS in fact as feminine as he suspected earlier. He only assummed that they were a man that had a high pitch voice like China.

"Is that all yah wanted?" they asked him.

"Yeah, that's it," Feliks said as he turned to exit the bathroom.

Once he finally closed the door, he slumped against it, and tried to calm the weird feeling he had. Sure, he did like-love!-Toris, but this was a weird feeling for him to have towards a girl. It's not that he wanted to be with her, it's just...just...

"She kinda looked...hot..." he said softly as he softly rapped his head against the door frame.

Had he ever thought a girl looked good before? Well no...this was certainly new...

He pushed the thought-of the naked woman opposite the door-out of his mind. It doesn't matter how pretty a girl looks, he has eyes only for Toris, his Liet.

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><p>Feliks finally collected himself and made his way back into the kitchen where Toris awaited with eager eyes.<p>

"Well?" Toris asked.

"Well what?" Feliks asked flatly.

"Did something HAPPEN Feliks? You don't seem as...flamboyant. You seem somewhat modest."

"Modest?" Feliks tasted the word in his mouth.

"Yeah," Toris said shyly.

"Hm...I guess so..."

"Will you tell me?"

"Tell yah what?" Feliks asked as he rose his head.

"You know, what humbled you."

"Oh!" Feliks exclaimed as if his fire was rekindled. "Dude, Liet, you're totally not gonna believe this!"

"What?" Toris asked as he looked Feliks deep into the eyes.

"Well, um..." Feliks trailed off. He just remembered that he couldn't tell Toris what happened.

"Did you lose it again?"

"Yeah, way..." Feliks said as he avoided eye contact with Toris again.

Then he heard footsteps, and looked back towards the bathroom where the person-girl-was emerging. She stepped out of the slight shadow, and both men nearly dropped their mouths at the gorgeous girl in front of them.

She had long, curly, black hair, and her bang in a small, isolated, ponytail at the top of her head. She had big, abysmal blue eyes. Her skin was a surprisingly even mocha color, and she was about an inch shorter than Feliks, making her Toris's height (168 cm, 5 ft 5 in). She looked from guy to guy and dropped her head due to what appeared to be embarassment.

"Sorry," she began. "I didn't know that you wouldn't want someone who looked like me in yer-your-house...I'll leave immediantly.

"There's no need to," Toris interjected. "We don't mind your race, we were just surprised to find such a-lovely-girl under those-hideous-clothes."

"Oh?" she asked as she picked up her head.

It was then that Toris noticed her clothes. He turned his head to Feliks and asked, "Are those my clothes?"

"Well yeah, she's way too small to fit MY clothes," Feliks responded.

"You couldn't give her one of your dresses? She's got on boxers and a white button up shirt."

"You forgot the vest," she added.

"Sigh, I'll go find her a dress if you think I, like, REALLY need to," Feliks groaned.

"Good, once you're done, the _pierogi_ are ready," Toris smiled.

"But what dress should I get you?" Feliks asked as he studied the girl. Then he tossed a look back at Toris, who was watching him. "Maybe that one I wore last Saturday..."

"No!" Toris said as he threw out his arm and blushed deeply. "I'll get her some clothes," he said as he walked from around the island, and motioned for the girl to follow him to "Feliks's Closet" a.k.a. the "extra room".

Feliks smiled with satisfaction because he had just smartly maneuvered his way out of giving away his best dress. As well as he knew Toris, he knew Toris would recommend her a simple dress, and discourage her likes for a fancy one. Besides, this way, Feliks wouldn't seem selfish for denying her a pretty dress. Or at least that was his logic.

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><p>"How's about this one?" Toris asked as he held up a frilly pink dress.<p>

The girl shook her head no.

"This one?" he asked while holding up another dress.

The girl gasped. It was THE most perfect dress for her. This one was a simple, crisp white dress with soft ruffles and narrow lace adorning it. The black overcoat had tiny roses littering it, and two, thin ribbon sashes that would tie underneath her chest. The outfit was utterly complete when Toris picked up a pair of black Mary Jane's just her size. She felt the soft cotton of the dress, and pressed it to her nose. She smiled an infectious smile of satisfaction, and Toris caught it.

"Yeah, this one," the girl said.

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><p>Feliks popped another dumpling in his mouth. The blend of the finely ground meat, the perfectly seasoned cabbage, and the assortment of mushrooms was so tempting that he was already on his third <em>pierogi<em>.

"Thank God I made thirty five," Toris said softly.

Feliks jumped a bit, and turned around to add in his smart ass comment of the day-hour-with his biggest smile, but he noticed that the girl was absentmindedly playing with her fingers, and this led his eyes to search her outfit. She was wearing the frilly dress that Feliks couldn't wear due to the chest area being too large. Normally he would get a dress tailored, but something told him not to, and this must have been why.

Possibly feeling the eyes upon her, the girl's head shot up, and she gave Feliks a skeptical look. "What?" she asked him.

"Isn't your hair, like, a little wet?"

"Yeah, what about it?" she asked as she patted it gently.

"Aren't you afraid of getting the dress wet?"

"Oh-Em-Jesus! I hadn't thought of that!" she said as she undid the ribbon from her bang-tail, and pulled her hair off her shoulders and into a loose bun.

"How did you get your hair so long?" Toris asked the girl.

"Oh, this?" she asked motioning for her hair. "I've had about two centuries to grow it out. Yah see, I don't really like cuttin' it none."

"Oh, intriguing," Toris said genuinely.

"So, like, where yah from?" Feliks asked.

"No-where really..." she replied quickly.

"It's okay, you can trust us," Toris said sweetly.

"Oh, it's not that," she said as she dropped her head to the floor.

"Then tell us what, like, the problem is," Feliks demanded.

"Alfred doesn't want people to know that I'm still alive, because he wants to carry the image that I'm dead..." she said softly.

"Would that mean that you, are like, THE Southern American?" Feliks asked wide-eyed.

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><p>AN: Am I the only one who thinks that "Bieber Fever" is useless idolization, and could escalate to his world domination of the weak-minded people? It could even escalate to a Pop-locaust, in which we (the anti-fanbase) are persecuted. Hmm...*strokes chin* I'll just get back to the story...

I think I'll be updating tomorrow...or not! *evil cackle*


	4. Chapter 4: Kuntree Bumkin

A/N: Remember, I'm a **DISCLAIMER!** I do NOT own Hetalia Axis Powers or Hetalia World Series, and I'm just an obsessive fangirl writing a fanfic.

None of this is historically based (although I'm MAKING history!), so don't point out inaccuracy, cause there is none!

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><p>"THE Southern American? Well gee, that makes me sound a lil more important than I ACTUALLY am!" the girl said loudly with a bright smile.<p>

"But, like, you're the ONLY major American! I totally thought you were a myth!" Feliks said, even louder than her.

"So where did you go?" Toris asked.

"Well, for a little while I went to Canada, and then I came back to redeem my title as 'Southern Belle'," she said proudly.

"Oh, so your name's like, Belle?" Feliks asked.

"Nah, the name's Shaylene Catherine-Jones, call me Shay for short," she said as she extended her right arm.

"Shay? Duh, it totes fits you! And, like, how'd you get lost in Canada?" Feliks asked as he shook her hand.

"I heard it's a pretty large state, Feliks, it MUST be easy to get lost in," Toris supplied.

"Um, no, I'm afraid that-" Shaylene began to say.

Feliks interrupted with, "Gag me with a spoon Liet, everyone knows that Canada's TOTALLY a US territory!"

Shaylene exhailed a large amount of air as she smacked her forehead. Then she dropped her hand, rolled her eyes, and turned to Toris. "Liet, right?" she asked.

"Oh, my name's Toris," he replied.

"Toris, I like that...You see Toris, Canada is neither a state, nor a TERRITORY," she said with emphasis as she quickly glanced at Feliks. "-of the US, it's a country all in it's own."

"Oh, really?" Feliks asked. "Then, like, why haven't I seen them at any world meetings?"

"I don't know! He ALWAYS attends them!" Shaylene exclaimed.

"Canada," Toris muttered to himself. "I'll have to look him up..."

Feliks overheard him and said, "Like, of course! Looking this Canada girl-"

"Guy," Shay interrupted.

"-is an order!" he finished.

"Okay Feliks, do you want the _pierogi_ now? I'll warn you, they're probably cold," Toris said calmly.

"How cold? 'Cause if they're way cold, you're totes gonna heat them up, right?" Feliks asked.

"Yes," Toris said passively.

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><p>While Feliks crammed all the <em>pierogi<em> in his mouth, Shaylene pulled Toris to the side in order to have a word with him.

"Hun, why do you let him run all over you like that?" Shaylene asked softly.

"Oh, it's just a Polish thing, I admire the strength and decisiveness he has, so I just think nothing of it," Toris said with a genuine smile.

Shaylene gave an annoyed frown, "Does that mean you're calling your people weak?"

"No, of course not, we Lithuanians are NOT weak, we simply put our loved ones before us."

"Oh...So you love him, eh? I admire your selflessness," Shaylene said with a simple smile.

"Thank you."

"I sure as hell couldn't do that."

"Really?" Toris asked curiously.

"Yeah, fer sure, we Southerners have evolved to be a bit more weary of people's motives."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, unlike most Northerners, we know how to put on a good front."

"'Front'?"

"Yeah, as in, we know what people are thinkin', we just don't show it. And typically, we talk about them behind their backs."

"Oh? That doesn't sound too good."

"Oh, no, trust me on this one! You see, when you know the secrets of the universe, like my family in Louisiana, you can even CONTROL other people!" Shaylene said confidently.

"Control other people?" Toris said worriedly.

Shaylene mistook it for excitedness, and continued gushing, "Yeah, my momma knows a lot of stuff about it, but I don't do that stuff, it's demonic."

"Demonic? Demons actually exist?"

"Yeah, and they scare me shitless, so I don't..." here Shaylene dropped her head and her voice. "...don't really talk to my mom."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Toris replied.

"Oh that's okay, it's really all her fault," Shaylene said as she looked up with sad eyes.

"Killer _pierogi_, Liet!" Feliks interrupted, again...

"Where, where?" Toris asked as he looked around frantically.

"Um, I think he means 'killer' as in 'really nice'," Shaylene said with a bubbly laugh.

Toris and Feliks had managed to lift her mood...

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><p><strong>'They brought me here to the airport, they fed me, they bathed me, and they clothed me...These are two really cool gay guys...Dumb boss of mine...ignorant man! Always with his <em>down with gay people<em>, _down with minorities_, _up with taxes_! Just who does he think he is! Destroying love! Discriminating! Stealing! Oh~ he pisses me off! ...Do I remember how to make those dolls Momma used to make? No wait, Shay! No Shay! You can't do that! That's like a Season Pass to Hell! You don't wanna end up like _her_ now do you? ...Nah, of course not, you wan-'**

"Later Shay!" Feliks interrupted Shaylene's internal conflict with his frantic waving.

"Be safe," Toris said with a soft voice, and slight wave.

She lifted her head, and sent them both a nice smile, and gave a cute-lil-shy-wave. Then she turned to board the plane. It was then that she noticed she was just standing there with her lucrid thoughts and scary faces, because when she waved to a small child beside her, they ran from her with fear. This made her clench her fist and roll her eyes. It was moments like this where she remembered why she hadn't had any children; they're weak-lil-spineless-bastards...she would never voice these thoughts though.

"I am of course a Southern woman, now aren't I?" she asked herself as she opened a 'Sky Miles' magazine. "That's why I always fly Delta!"

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><p>When she landed in Hartsfield-Jackson, she immediantly made her way to a news stand, and bought her favorite publication, TeenVogue. The only problem with this picture is the fact that although it's her "favorite" magazine, she has the oddest habit of critiquing every article, every spread, and every product. Of course she took the moment to pause and buy a Checker's burger before continuing out to her car. She's Southern, yes, but American none-the-less.<p>

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><p>Once she pulled past the white picket fence, and into the car port, she grabbed the bag with her magazine, and fast food. She glanced up to see that the side window was open, and that someone moved past it. She jumped up quickly, and nearly sprinted inside to defend her beige-bungalow-fortress with the gardening spade that she was about to grasp, but unfortunately she tripped on the brown and ruddy leaves that littered her lawn. She let out a deep "oomph" sound, and sighed in deep dissatisfaction at her idiotic clumsiness. She saw somebody out of the right corner of her eye, and turned to see that it was Carlos, her gay best friend. Upon seeing Shaylene in shambles, he broke into a series of bubbly, flamboyant, giggles.<p>

Shaylene rolled her eyes, but joined his laughter, once she saw how rediculous she looked. Her left leg was sprawled across the front walk, and her right shoe had flown onto the pavement, while her leg itself was buried in the leaves that were now, also, entangled in her curly hair. Once Carlos was done laughing, he extended his hand to help up his friend. Shaylene firmly grasped his hand, and allowed him to pull her up.

"Wow, I'm sorry for laughin' hun, but that was TOO funny," he smiled as he pulled leaves out of her hair.

"Yeah, hella funny, I'm sure," Shaylene said sarcastically.

"It was, it was, but tell me sweetheart, what happened to your HAIR?"

"The hell I know!"

"You didn't have any mouse or de-frizzer on you?"

"Hell no, I didn't even have a friggin' straightner!"

"Aw~" Carlos said sympathetically as he poked out his lower lip.

"I know, huh, MAJOR suckish!"

"Nice to see you so at home already," Carlos said as he picked up her shoe, and opened the front door for Shaylene.

"What d'yah mean?" she asked as she grabbed the shoe, and walked into her house. She smiled in satisfaction at the familiar smell of peaches.

"Usually you sound like a Northerner after you come back from running Alfredo's errands, but this time, you sound like your stereotypically 'oreo' hind!"

"'Oreo'? 'Alfredo'? Really now, Carlos? You, so, can't judge me."

"Why not Shay? I like judging you, that's what friends are for!"

"You can't judge me, because we both know you're a gay cliche, and I'm an 'oreo' cliche."

"Oh yeah, when did we make that pact?"

"Way-back-when."

"When, when?"

"I think, it was when they chose you for the representative of Atlanta," Shaylene said as she crashed into the couch.

"Oh yeah, way back when I was 'closeted'~" he said as he gently sat down.

"Why did you ever come out?" a weird voice asked.

* * *

><p>AN: Is it weird that my friend and I had an entire conversation devoted to _pierogi_ the other day? Nah, I don't think so, cause Poland's epic! BTW, bear with me, Antonio WILL make an appearance later. Me not introducing him right off the bat, and waiting for the right time, is a little thing we call "plot" :]]

I may or may not update tomorrow, I kinda have this thing to go to...


	5. Chapter 5: Southern Chicken Alfredo

A/N: Remember, I'm a **DISCLAIMER!** I do NOT own Hetalia Axis Powers or Hetalia World Series, and I'm just an obsessive fangirl writing a fanfic.

"None of this is historically based (well, it kinda-sorta is...if you consider fabricating US History to be "historically based"), so don't point out inaccuracy, cause there is none!

* * *

><p>"Oh yeah, when did we make that pact?"<p>

"Way-back-when."

"When, when?"

"I think, it was when they chose you for the representative of Atlanta," Shaylene said as she crashed into the couch.

"Oh yeah, way back when I was 'closeted'~" he said as he gently sat down.

"Why did you ever come out?" a weird voice asked.

Shaylene looked up to see her weirdo-step-brother standing in her front door frame. She instinctively rolled her eyes back to Carlos.

"Hey~! You can't just ignore me like that Lenny!" Alfred complained.

"Gosh, you sound so childish," Carlos said as he too rolled his eyes.

"Well, you didn't answer my question," Alfred said, childishly.

"What does THAT have to do with anything?" Shaylene asked.

Alfred moved out of the doorframe, and closed the door behind him, "Nothing really, I was just, y'know, curious, that's all..."

"_Por que_?" Carlos asked.

"Well, I was just wondering if it were acceptable for a guy- who represents something supermongous, y'know like a country-to admit those kinda, y'know...feelings?" Alfred rambled.

"Wow...and just when I thought yah couldn't get anymore stupid. The hell you ramblin' bout?" Shaylene asked, visibly peeved.

"Alfred, are you trying to say that you're gay or something?" Carlos asked as he studied Alfred, who was visibly uncomfortable.

Alfred snapped his head up, "No~! HELL, no! I'm just, well, y'know..."

"Why d'yah say 'y'know' so often? Tryna steal my di'lect?" Shaylene snapped.

"Shaylene, don't interrupt your brother so rudely," Carlos reprimanded.

"Step-brother," she muttered.

"Any-WAY~, continue, Alfred, dear," Carlos rolled his eyes.

Alfred began with, "Well...I'm not GAY-"

"No offense, Carlos," Shaylene interrupted.

"-It's just that I don't only have _feelings_ for _girls_, y'know?" Alfred finished.

* * *

><p>"So basically, you're bisexual," Shaylene said as she stirred the [collard] greens in the pot.<p>

"I guess so," Alfred said as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, there's nothing to be ashamed of, we are all different, _distinto_, so it's perfectly o-kay~," Carlos reassured him.

"Mhm~, Carlos, _por favor_, the drinks," Shaylene said softly.

As Carlos shuffled off to the store in order to buy supplies for his drinks, the kitchen fell silent, and Alfred watched Shaylene continue working. She was softly humming a nonsensical tune, and adding more water and seasoning to the meat. Alfred looked in closer to see that it was the dreaded "chit-lin's 'nd hog maw" on the back left eye, and the "greens 'nd pig fee-" on the back left eye. He visibly sighed, and Shaylene turned to scold him with her eyes. He looked to his right to avoid her evil, silent gaze. He had forgotten that she didn't like "nobody breafin' ovah my goddamn foo-". He chuckled lightly at how his sister's Southerness showed the most when she was expressing hersself vividly. She could be such a-

"Bumpkin," Alfred accidently said aloud.

"How many times? How many, _friggin'_, times have _I_ told _you_ not to call _me_ some damn, coun'tree~ bump'kin~?" Shaylene asked while stirring the pig parts violently.

"How'd you know I was talkin' bout YOU?" Alfred asked while pouting.

"Duh, who the hell else? Yah ONLY call ME a bumpkin, and so it would only be'fair that you'd be talkin' 'bout me," she pointed out, as she lifted open to oven to check on the cornbread.

"Humph, I never thought of that," he muttered to himself.

"D'yah evah think?" Shaylene said softly.

"Hey~!" Alfred said excitedly, completely ignoring Shaylene's bitterness. "Why don't I help you cook?"

"Now why the hell would'yah wanna help me cook?" Shaylene snapped.

"Duh, 'cause I'm the hero~" Alfred sung as he winked and lifted his right thumb to under his chin.

"Oh GAWD no, please, don't EVAH do that again," Shaylene said as she shook her head, and put on her oven mitts.

"Well, what d'ya say?" Alfred asked eagerly.

"Hum~" Shaylene stroked her chin. "Make the table," she commanded, and bent to get the cornbread from the oven.

"Make the table~? No~! That's so unheroic! Make me cook something!" Alfred begged.

"No~! I don't trust you, and you're damn Northern skills, you can't cook!" Shaylene said, frustrated.

"I can too! You should see me in my kitchen!" he replied.

"Nu-unh~ You live in New York, what can you cook?" Shaylene said stubbornly.

"Shay, you ever BEEN to New York?" Alfred asked curiously.

Shaylene blushed slightly, and began rambling, "Um, well, no... but, well, yah see~, I like, y'know, kinda sort-"

"_Alfredo_~, _Shay_~, you two still in the kitchen? I brought the stuff for _la limonada_, I even bought REAL lemonades this time," Carlos sung through the front of the house.

Shaylene peaked out through the kitchen half-wall and into the front room, where Carlos was standing with a Wal-Mart bag. She visibly sighed, and motioned for him to join her in the kitchen.

"So, you _haven't_ been to New York?" Alfred asked Shaylene as he grabbed a pinch of greens from the pot.

"Well, no, I haven't," she replied softly.

"Hm~, you can come to the next world meeting with me," Alfred said as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Oh, really now~?" Shaylene asked in a shocked way.

"Yeah," Alfred said as he stood in front of the china cabinet, and opened one of the drawers.

"Oh? What you doin'?" Carlos asked Alfred as he paused in the "dining room" and looked at him fishing through the drawer.

Shaylene turned to look at them, and see what exactly Alfred was doing.

"Duh, I'm looking for the stuff to make the table with, hero's have to be able to do whatever request their dependant's request," Alfred said nonchalantly.

Shaylene and Carlos gave a small giggle, and Carlos walked into the kitchen and pulled all his lemonade supplies out of the bag.

**'Maybe he's not the worst brother-type-figure I could ask for. Sure, he has a funny way of doing thing's, and he may even be able to cook a bit better than me-even though I'll NEVER admit it-but I still shouldn't let my stupid Southern pride get in the way of our comradery, right?'**

"Wow, Carlos look," Alfred said as he held up a plate. "Isn't Shaylene's taste in dishware so LAME? I mean, come on, who still uses lame, round plates with blue pictures?"

Carlos gave a weak laugh, that is, until Shaylene shot him a deathglare. Then she looked to Alfred, and screamed at the top of her lungs, "YOU PUNK BITCH YOU, HOW DARE YOU, HOW DARE YOU DISRESPECT MY BLUE CHINA! HOW DARE YOU LAUGH AT SOMEONE WHO _CLEARLY_ HAS MORE TASTE THAN YOU WHEN IT COMES TO DISHWARE, FOOD, AND CULTURE! URG~ YOU MAKE ME SO MAD, YOU DAMN-MFUFMFMMFOMF-"

Carlos had covered Shaylene's mouth, and she was frantically kicking and biting just so that she would be released.

"Haha, you're Georgian side is showing!" Alfred laughed loudly.

Carlos released Shaylene's mouth, and they both chimed in unison, "What does that mean?"

* * *

><p>They were all seated at the table, they were being remarkably sweet with one another.<p>

"Please pass me the collards," Alfred said to Shaylene.

"Sure thing sugah, and make sure you get some too Carlos, need to put some meat on those scrawneh bones," she laughed light-heartedly.

"Uh-unh~" Carlos shook his finger. "You got enough meat for the both of us," Carlos said playfully as he passed the greens to Alfred.

"Hahaha~," she laughed as she swatted her hand. "You terrible tease, you! How'd yah like the chit'lins this time?"

"I liked them~" Alfred sang cheerily. "The hot sauce was real good too, what was it?"

"Oh the hot sauce? It was from Louisiana, that's why it was good," Shaylene replied.

"Oh? Louisiana? You Southern states sure do get along real well," Alfred said.

"Now, uh, just what do you mean by 'you Southern states'?" she said, a little on edge.

"Uh-oh," Carlos muttered.

"Oh, no, Carlos, this won't turn into another one of those kinda conversations, I'm just sayin' that he shoudn't say it like that. I mean, come on, I didn't ask him what guy made him turn all sweet, so what reason does he have for, y'know, saying that like that?" Shaylene spat with extra-venom.

"God, Shay, you're always so bitter," Alfred rolled his eyes.

"I'm always so _bitter_, hm~ wonder what THAT means," she said as she narrowed her eyes.

"Here we go again," Carlos rolled his eyes.

Then Shaylene and Alfred continued on with their little argument about nothing in particular...

But in the far recesses of his mind, Carlos too was wondering, 'What guy made Alfred think he was gay?'

* * *

><p>AN: I'm EXHAUSTED! Longest day ever, due to this "Block Party" occasion. When I tell you it was hot, it was HOT! Nothing quite like a heatstroke in Georgia...

"You're Georgian side is showing" basically means that Shaylene is acting a lot like Arthur (due to Georgia originally being like-kinda-the first British colony). Get it?

I wanted to add in most of those parts to point out the fact, that I noticed it is VERY common for black girls, such as I, to get sore when referred to as bitter, although I will admit that we can be.

Oh, and about the whole, 'food thing', I based that on the fact that due to our "Southern Pride", we do have a habit of saying that "it would taste much better if someone more Southern made it", even if the cook was indeed Southern.

Hehe, think I'll add a little more later on today.


End file.
